


Not His Persephone

by ashes_of_roses (KendraLuehr)



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, F/M, Sexual Tension, sass battles and tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 03:37:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18065873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraLuehr/pseuds/ashes_of_roses
Summary: When Michael Langdon resurrects Marina Andrieski, she is given the choice to die again or help annihilate Cordelia's coven. But between her lashing tongue, greed for power, and overall stubbornness, Michael might have finally met his match.





	Not His Persephone

The first thing Marina felt was pain. It was sharp and blinding, and a steady, vibrant throb pulsed beneath her left eye as she drew her first breath. Or rather, her first breath after _death._

Slowly blinking, she was unseeing at first before very slowly, her vision began to focus on an overhead figure.

“Welcome back,” the man purred. “For a moment there, I was worried it hadn’t worked.”

Mouth dry and throat parched, Marina sluggishly turned her head and took in the sight of several tall, hooded figures. “What the fuck?” she croaked.

“Don’t mind them,” the man said. “They helped save your life.”

Briefly struck by how this man – no, this _stranger –_ looked like a second-rate vampire Lestat, it took Marina a moment to realize there was a dead girl at her feet. A _sacrifice._ She had never participated in a black mass before, but she sure as hell knew to avoid them.

“You’re confused,” the man observed.

_Yeah, no shit._

“My name is Michael Langdon, and I’ve come to offer you a job.”

Finally finding strength in her vocal cords, Marina scrunched her nose and rasped, “This was…a resurrection spell?”

“Yes. You know it quite well, I’m sure. As the world’s most powerful hedge witch, I figured that perhaps _I_ should be the one learning from _you.”_

Feeling dizzy, a wave of nausea overcame Marina, but she managed to tamp it down. “I don’t do favors, Fabio.”

Michael laughed, though the sound wasn’t warm or congenial. “Well, now! Is that any way to repay my kindness?”

“I didn’t _ask_ to be saved.”

“Perhaps not, but somehow, I think you would _object,_ were I to suddenly retract my gift.”

He lifted a hand in preparation to snap his fingers, and frantically, Marina launched up to stay his hand. Unfortunately, the momentum upset her weak stomach and she dry-heaved, Michael watching on in disgust as she clapped a hand over her blood-smeared mouth.

“You’ve suffered an aneurysm,” he said. “Though stable, the repairs I’ve made to your brain will undoubtedly not sit well with you for a while. It’s better if you lie still.”

Defeated, Marina sank back onto the floor with a drawn-out, disbelieving huff. “An aneurysm? _That’s_ the best that ass-hat could do?”

“Evidently, it was more than enough. You were dead for at least three days,” Michael said, bemused by her behavior. “And given your three-day fast, I imagine you are quite hungry.”

“Ugh, _no,_ did you miss the part where I almost ralphed all over your weird-ass, pointy shoes? I…” Her stomach growled – no, _roared_ – and astonished, she placed her slowly warming hands over her middle. “Holy shit…”

“Those are your ‘alive again munchies,’” Michael said, amusement flashing across his eyes. “If you would like, I can provide a meal for you and discuss the specifics of your assignment.”

He held out a hand, and distrustfully, Marina curled her mouth. “What if I’m not interested?”

“Believe me, I am not a man to be refused.”

She breathed a husky laugh. “Oh. So you’re one of _those._ Let me tell you something, cock-whistler – the world doesn’t revolve around you _or_ your strange, red-hooded cult. Some of us damsels don’t actually _need_ to be rescued.”

Michael chuckled a moment, deceptively calm, before launching forward and baring a pale, demonic face amidst a terrible cry of warning.

Marina instantly found herself flattened against the floor. Stunned, her chest heaved and she looked up at him in wide-eyed, fearful alarm. “W-what the fuck are you? A _god?”_

Michael sneered. “Try something a bit _contradictory_ on that spectrum.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re very unladylike.”

Wrapping her lips around yet another (large) forkful of spaghetti, Marina narrowed her eyes and snapped back, “Schrew you, asthole.” After realizing her speech was impeded by food, she shrugged and continued shoveling the noodles into her mouth.

“Carbohydrates are one of the best sources of energy,” Michael continued. “I know you are quite hungry, but please try and slow down. Too much at once could cause organ failure.”

Halting in her frenzy, Marina slowly swallowed her mouthful before gazing back at him in bewildered, skeptical alarm. “I don’t remember any of my spells – or at least, _resurrection_ ones – having that setback.”

“I added my own flair,” Michael said. “I also could have chosen to make you completely devoted to me – mindless, in fact – but I chose not to.”

She sneered. “Well how humanitarian of you.”

Michael slammed his fist against the table. “Let’s get one thing straight here: you are _not_ my equal. I expect you to address me as such.”

“Well see, that’s the problem,” Marina said. “I don’t know who or _what_ you are, so at the moment, this so-called ‘respect’ that you allegedly _‘deserve’…”_ She held her hands up in air quotes. “…is all just a load of bullshit. So start cluing me in, maybe?”

Michael’s lips lifted into a coy, yet decidedly tight smile. “Earlier, you asked if I was a god. My father reigns over the one place people fear the most.”

Marina arched a brow. “Waffle House after midnight?”

Again, he slammed his fist against the table. _“Hell!_ The Underworld!”

Despite the black mass starting to make sense, Marina found herself stubbornly unmoved. “The son of Satan? _Really?_ That’s what you’re going with?” Setting down her fork, she quipped, “What, so did I blaspheme one too many times or something? Have you come to collect my soul?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Michael agreed, “but I decided you were of far more value to me alive than dead.”

She blinked. “Okay, so if you’re so powerful, why do you even need me?”

“I don’t enjoy getting my hands dirty. It’s far more _entertaining_ when someone else does the heavy-lifting. More rewarding, too.”

“Sooo, you need a stooge.”

“No, not a stooge – a partner.”  

Marina scoffed. “Didn’t you just say I wasn’t your equal? You really need to work on your mixed messages, _Michael Langdon._ Which, by the way, I think is the name of that actor from _Highway to Heaven,_ so if that’s truly the case, _wow._ Talk about your irony.”

Michael appeared unamused. “Are you finally willing to hear my proposal?”

Marina hesitated, her index finger idly tracing along her fork. With the proper finesse, she could heat up the utensil, aim it as his throat, and-

“You won’t kill me.”

She flinched, startled. “H-how…?”

“Very few people, even powerful hedges such as yourself, can prevent giving off waves of intent. You also have an oh-so-charming little tell – any time violence is on your mind, your mouth screws slightly to the left at a coiled, downward angle.”

Remaining silent, Marina slowly pushed the knife to the right.

“Very good,” Michael cooed. “See? There’s hope for you yet.”

“Go f-”

“Ah-ah! Careful now,” he warned. Rising from his perch, he steadily approached her, his steps cocksure and methodical as he stopped alongside her chair. “I need you to help me take down a coven of witches.”

Marina looked up at him, startled. “Why me? I only kill out of necessity, not…not for _hire.”_

“Your powers are unmatched. They won’t be able to resist you, least especially with the threat of my presence at the helm.”

Marina frowned. “If I agree, what will I get out of this?”

“You’ll get to keep your _life,_ for one, and two, you’ll be guaranteed a place at the Sanctuary.”

“Which is?”

“A bunker that will preserve your life, once this dreaded planet finally blows sky-high.”

Marina winced. “Jesus, you really go for the theatrics, don’t you?”

“It’s my birthright,” Michael coolly said. “I was _created_ for this purpose. If I don’t bring the end of the world, I am nothing.”

Marina rolled her eyes. “And here I thought _manhood issues_ were the leading cause of toxic masculinity.”

“I’ll give you time to think on it,” Michael bit back. “In the meantime, I’ll sap your strength just to remind you of what’s _truly_ at stake here.”

“No, no, wait!”

Marina leapt up from her perch, only to immediately be sent sprawling to her hands and knees, her limbs shaking from the effort of remaining upright.

Michael chuckled. “Though I appreciate the gesture, there is no need to _bow,_ Miss Andrieski. I will see you in the morning.”

Teeth clenching, Marina weakly rolled over onto her side and drew in several slow, shallow breaths. This prick really wasn’t fucking around…

**Author's Note:**

> I've enjoyed the concept of these two for a while now, but have mostly just played around with it in YT videos (as seen here):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GjulPB3IOEw  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LeEM5ggtWl4
> 
> For those who're unsure, I placed this after Reynard the Fox killed Marina, and before the end of the world for the AHS timeline. Marina may be cautious, but she also tends to make an entrance, so it's not really all that surprising that Michael found out about her. So yeah. This is just me testing the waters. It's a lot more light-hearted than my summary sounds, but since I'm a sucker for angst, I'm sure that'll pop up eventually. Hope you enjoyed!


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